Roughriders of the Pampas: A Tale of Ranch Life in South America

by F. S. Brereton

He took to his heels at once, and raced down the hillock towards his horse, the gun which he carried over his shoulders pounding against his back. He had fifty yards to cover, and long before he had gained his mount the Indian who had fired at him had reached the top of the hillock and had thrown himself on one knee. There came the ring of an iron ramrod, for this savage was armed with an old-fashioned muzzle-loader. Then followed the bellow of the piece, while a ball hummed over the pampas, missed our hero by little more than an inch, and, flying on, struck his horse just in front of the saddle, causing him to rear up, give a startled neigh, and then trot on a few paces.

"Whoa! Steady, horse!" shouted Dudley, knowing that his life depended on his mount. "Steady, boy! I'm coming."

It was a fortunate thing for him that he had made a point of accustoming his mount to his voice, for otherwise the frightened animal would have bolted. As it was it stood irresolute, listening to Dudley's words, its ears pricked up and its eyes cast back at the figures now pouring over the summit. There were at least forty dismounted Indians, and a rattling volley came from their muzzle-loaders as the fugitive reached the side of his horse, the bullets whizzing overhead and on either side, but missing man and animal by good chance. Dudley vaulted into his saddle promptly, clutched at his reins, and, turning his face towards the distant rancho, set spurs to the flanks of his horse. And then commenced a flight which was all too exciting for the young fellow who was being chased.

Bang! Bang! Another volley rattled from the direction of the hillock, a scattered, irregular volley, broken by shouts and wild yells. Then there was a dull thud and the horse sprang into the air and then galloped on at an even greater pace, for it had been stung by a bullet which had struck it on the quarter. However, the range was rather far for a muzzle-loader, and it happened that the wound was only a superficial one.

"Steady, boy!" cried Dudley, taking good hold of his reins and looking round. "We have a long gallop before us and we had better be careful. Steady! Their horsemen are not in sight."

Pulling gently at the mouth of the excited steed he managed to steady its pace a little, till it was bounding at a good gallop over the pampas. It was a fine beast, and capable of a long race, but not at full speed all the way. Dudley knew that, and like the jockey who has a good horse beneath him, and other fine ones to beat, he determined to husband the strength of his mount, so as to keep it comfortably ahead of the pursuers as far as the rancho.

A minute later a mob of shrieking Indians burst over the top of the hillock and came galloping down, their arms waving in the air, guns flourishing overhead, and their bodies bent low in the saddle. They were a set of cut-throats in appearance, and bellowed and shrieked in a manner which gave some indication of their ferocity. But no one who watched their mad pursuit could have failed to admire them to some extent. The men were part and parcel of their horses. They rode on a strip of leather for the most part, and had no stirrups. Their knees lay close to their horses and they sat as if they were glued to their places. There was an easy swing and poise about them, too, which told that they trusted entirely to grip and to balance, and were thus able to do without saddle and stirrups.

"A nasty-looking lot of beggars," thought Dudley, "and well mounted, as they always are. It will be a close race, and very soon I shall have to press my horse. The fellows haven't saddles either. I wish I hadn't. It gives them an advantage, for I carry extra weight."

That set him thinking, for the native saddle used by the gauchos was a somewhat heavy and cumbersome affair, and, to one used to an English hunting saddle, it was by no means too comfortable. He turned again to watch the Indians, noticing that already quite a number had commenced to fall to the rear. Then he bent towards his horse's neck and slid his left hand down to the buckle which secured the girth.

"It could be done," he said to himself. "I could unbuckle the strap and so loosen the saddle. The thing is, could I manage to pass it backwards without toppling over?"